


Becoming Human, Becoming Not

by MorphlingUnderscore



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Be nice to me, Disassociation, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Okay yall this is gonna be my first multi-chapter fic, Panic Attacks, Pining, also there's gonna be some bastardly actions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphlingUnderscore/pseuds/MorphlingUnderscore
Summary: Gordon Freeman (that was his name, he can't think of himself of anything else anymore) wakes up for the fever dream that was hlvrai. Everything is wrong. His hand is missing, he barely remembers the life he had before he game, and oh, the fellas are here too....How the f-
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 313





	Becoming Human, Becoming Not

The game has ended, the world is falling apart, and Gordon…

Gordon wakes up in his apartment. Alone.

Does it make sense to slip out of your body as everything you thought you knew shatters like glass? Weeks have passed. Grueling days of blood, sweat, and tears, and other odd fluids found in Black Mesa, and he can still feel them coating sticky on his skin. But when he blinks, it disappears. He's not in the HEV suit. He's not in Black Mesa. He's in his shitty apartment, laying dead on the floor next to his laptop. The room is dark, and he is alone.

When his mind returns to his body, Gordon is in shut-down, take-stock mode. Sitting up is difficult, partly because he can't see…

And partly because his right hand is missing. 

Oh, so  _ that _ carried over, huh?  _ Great _ .

Whatever. Whatever! That's something to freak out about later. At least he doesn't have a gatling gun for a hand, because he's pretty sure automatic weapons are still banned even if they're a physical part of his body. His first mission is to check the time. That should be simple enough. Emphasis on  _ should _ be, because apparently his laptop got completely  _ fried.  _ Like, literally fried. Gordon can feel the singed carpet underneath it when he picks it up. There's a hole through to the wood, which is fantastic. There goes his fucking security deposit. God, everything sucks. He really needs to turn the light on and assess all the damages, personal or structural. Will any of it get covered? ' _ I got sucked into a video game _ ' probably wouldn't fly to his insurance company. 

Where the hell is his light switch? It feels like it's been months, maybe even  _ years _ since he's been here. He expects, like, an  _ inch _ of dust to cover all of his shit. His alarm clock blinks 2:46 am from its perch beside his bed, and he struggles to remember when he started. When he loaded up the game without a worry in mind except how well it would handle his vr headset. It had been… 2:00? Maybe a little bit past? 

Gordon grunts and clutches his head. It throbs to the beat of his heart, almost in warning.  _ Alright, alright _ , Gordon thinks in defeat, dropping that train of thought,  _ don't think too hard about it, got it.  _

He also thinks  _ this is bullshit,  _ but much quieter this time, so as to... not alert his headache. That's stupid. He's being stupid.  _ Just turn on the fucking light, Freeman _ . 

He  _ definitely _ doesn't yelp when the light blinds him, definitely doesn't trip over his stupid bedframe while his eyes are closed and end up sprawled in a heap on the floor. He does none of that, because he's super cool and collected! He's just laying here because he's… taking a break.

"Yeah, just keep lying to yourself, Gordon," he mutters, standing back up and wincing. He should have expected that after being in the dark for so long. His whole body has been aching and acting up since he woke, but now he can add a rug-burn to that laundry list, all because he didn't cover his eyes first. Beautiful. Absolutely perfect. Today's a good day. Except it's  _ not _ , his life is  _ hell _ , and he's  _ alone! _

Wait. His laptop… does that mean…

Oh no. Oh  _ no _ .

Diving down to snatch his computer, Gordon cracks the thing open with a nasty  _ snkt _ and blanches. Oh shit, not only did it fry, there's a goddamn  _ hole _ burnt through the screen, straight through the plastic back! How had he not  _ noticed _ that? Something tightens in his chest, a whirl of emotions wrapped in a blanket of panic. He taps the power button, holds it down, frantically smashes at the keyboard, but there's no response. Not even a spark to imply any of the inside bits are even functioning. That's it, then. There's no salvaging it. He slumps to his knees, lets himself collapse face first. He clutches the laptop tightly to his chest, like it might magically bring them back. He wishes he could hope, could pretend they're okay, but there's no way they managed to hop into one of his drives, sitting useless and quiet on his desk.  _ They're gone. _ His throat tightens with unshed tears.

_ He's  _ **_alone-_ **

_ Bang! Clatter! _

Gordon swears and shoots up, looking around in alarm. It sounded like... something  _ big  _ fell down in the hall right outside his door, he thinks. He waits for a moment, expecting muttered curses of frustration, but there’s no other sounds to imply that it was just someone dropping a grocery bag or something, and he wonders if he should get up and check. Maybe somebody fell? They could be hurt, unable to call for help, maybe one of the older women who live a floor above him. Just as likely though is that fucking raccoon managed to sneak in again behind some douche who let the door hang open to smoke, and it's coming to ransack another innocent pantry. He's not about to invite in the little bastard, but he gets up, because he'd never forgive himself if one of those sweet old women was laying there in pain and he did nothing.

“Swear to god if it's the little bastard, I’m calling the landlord at ass o’ clock, and he  _ will _ call animal control this time,” he grumbles to himself, though he’s silently thankful for a distraction from the despair looming over him right now. What’re the odds he opens the door and gets attacked by a wild animal? Pretty high, considering how shitty his day  _ (week,  _ **_forever_ ** _ ) _ has been, so Gordon isn’t ashamed to admit that he grabs a broom before opening the door. 

He  _ is  _ ashamed to admit that, when he sees a familiar man in a mucked-up labcoat, grinning at him with toxic green eyes and exclaiming,  _ ‘Hello, Gordon!’ _ , he screams like he’s never screamed before.

\---

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” Dr. Coomer continues without missing a beat, even as Gordon clings to his broom for dear life, eyes wide as plates, “I was planning on waiting to talk to you  _ tomorrow _ , but then Bubby pointed out that we’d have to stay  _ somewhere  _ overnight, and Tommy wouldn’t let us break into another person’s house-”

“Oh my  _ god???” _

“-and Benry was busy trying to tame this little raccoon, which was quite funny, actually-”

“ _ Dr. Coomer.” _

“-so we just decided we’d return and wait outside your door! But then Tommy was getting anxious about you, and was worried that you were hurt- you  _ were _ awfully loud, falling all over the place-”   
“ _ I’m going insane! I’m going insane. This isn’t happening.” _

“-so I tried to knock, but I accidentally dented your door- sorry about that, by the way- and the raccoon I mentioned earlier went skittering away, right out of Benry’s arms! He was so sad.”

He waits a long moment, before croaking, "You done?" 

“Oh, yes, that’s quite it.”

“Good.” Gordon drops the broom and dives onto his bed, screaming into his pillow. 

“Mr. Freeman, are you okay?!” Tommy shouts in alarm, peeking his head through the door. Gordon raises his head and stares blankly, which Tommy apparently takes for a no, because he makes a face and enters the room fully. He's- wow, he is  _ super  _ tall On his tail is, unsurprisingly, Bubby, a little bit shorter than Gordon remembers, and--

“Oh FUCK no!” 

Gordon wishes,  _ wishes _ that he’s dreaming. His friends are here, he’s glad and he's confused and he's definitely going to have an anxiety attack, but he sees that smug fucker enter his  _ home,  _ his  _ place of residence _ , and he wishes he could launch himself out of the nearest window. But he can’t, because the nearest window is about a foot wide and half a foot tall and in the  _ bathroom _ , so he's screwed there. No, he can’t flee from this fucking nightmare, he can really only sit on top of his bed and shove himself the furthest distance away he can in a shitty attempt to get away. Benry looks at him with an expression that can only be read as  _ unimpressed. _ He shouldn’t care, but his cheeks still flush with shame as Benry looks around his apartment with a raised eyebrow.

“Damn, bitch, you live like this?” Benry deadpans.  _ Hello, rage, haven't seen you in a hot second _ .

“Yes,  _ Benry _ , I do live like this, now  _ why are you in my house.” _ It’s hissed out in one big jumble, and Benry  _ laughs. _ He almost thinks it's a nice laugh, but it's mocking and aimed, like a kid on the playground who's found out you don't like bugs and shoves a centipede in your face. God, he did not miss feeling like this, even for the short period of time where he was definitely  _ not _ mourning his apparently  _ not _ artificial friends. His fucking head hurts.

“Because the door was open? Man, I thought you’d have more…” he trails off pointedly, looking around the room with that stupid smirk, “stuff. Guess not.”

“Yeah, asshole, thanks for reminding me. Really appreciate remem- remembering how shitty my apartment is. Thanks.”

“No prob, bro.”

“Anyway,” Bubby cuts in before they can start a proper fight, “we needed somewhere to stay. Although Benry’s right, your place is shit.”

Gordon makes a high, frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Tommy looks at him sympathetically. “I wasn’t exactly anticipating  _ guests _ , Bubby! I was too busy trying to figure out what happened, and freaking out about the fact that my fucking  _ arm _ is gone in  _ real life!” _

That seems to grab everyone’s attention. Immediately their attention is diverted from his awful place and to his equally awful arm, thank god. His relief is short lived, though, when something dreadful occurs to him.

“Wait. Okay. Back up. You’re all here, and real. I’m not going crazy?”   
Dr. Coomer grimaces at that, but Tommy jumps and smiles. “Yep, we’re real! Dr. Coomer dented your door and everything!”   
Gordon squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to will his headache away. “Yes, I heard. Where did you come from? And are you like.” He flounders, waving his arms around. Benry seems oddly fixated on his stump, but his face is as unreadable as always. “Do you need to  _ eat?  _ Do you need vaccinations? Are you even  _ citizens? _ Am I supposed to  _ house _ you all? I can barely pay rent as is!” The more he thinks, the more he realizes how insane this all is. Like. Okay, later it’ll probably hit him that they’re alive and real and he’ll probably have to run off to cry in the bathroom like a baby, but right now all he can think about is that there’s  _ no way _ this could ever end well. 

He can already see how it’s going to fall apart. Noise complaints from neighbors, discovering his friends, getting kicked out or worse, arrested, finding out they don’t have any ids or papers or  _ anything _ … The government questioning, the eventual fighting, oh  _ jesus- _

“Dude, chill. You’re making  _ me _ feel nervous,” Benry mutters, even though he doesn’t sound it. Gordon realizes he’s hyperventilating and squeezes his eyes shut, counting in his head as he breathes. Thanks to Benry’s comment, he caught himself before going into a full blown panic, but he knows it wasn’t intentional. Whatever, he’s breathing somewhat okay now. When he opens his eyes, Dr. Coomer quickly leans away and smiles, and Bubby rolls his eyes. Only Tommy really looks concerned, which he nods his appreciation at.

“Sorry, got carried away. One thing at a time,” he reminds himself. He levels them all with an appraising stare. Dr. Coomer is… wow, he’s absolutely  _ shredded _ , but roughly Gordon’s own height. Benry is taller than him by about an inch, which is annoying, and he looks rail thin. Bubby looks the closest to what he did in the game, still on the short side but an average, slightly chubby build. Tommy is the starkest; he’s fucking  _ huge _ , tall and lean and looking like he could sack a quarterbacker despite his unassuming muscle definition. He wasn’t here to admire, though, he realizes with a light flush, he was just making sure they looked undeniably  _ human.  _ Which they did, thankfully. Sure, Benry’s face still had that eternal shade, and Dr. Coomer’s eyes were an impossible green, but both could be easily passed off as a quirk of a helmet or contacts.

“Okay, you all  _ look _ like normal people, which is good-”   
“The fact that you thought we  _ wouldn’t _ is offensive,” Bubby complains. Gordon ignores him out of principle.

“I need to know if you need to eat, and drink and shit. Like, uh…” He claps and points at Tommy. “I have some Dr. Pepper in the fridge, can you grab one, Tommy?” He asks. Tommy lights up and dashes for his kitchen. Okay, so either he just still loves soda or he’s  _ thirsty _ , which means a LOT when it comes to bills. If he has to feed four people, they’re screwed, plain and simple. He’s not even sure if he can keep his  _ job _ . He imagines walking up to his manager with a severed hand that is somehow completely scarred over and shudders. He’ll just have to write… a letter…

“Do any of you know how to forge handwriting?” He asks off-handedly, but then Tommy reenters the room with the entire case of sodas. He grabs one unprompted and just sort of… stares at it. He doesn’t try to open it. Gordon feels his mild headache start to turn into a proper migraine.

“Don’t tell me,” he sighs, even though he already knows, “Don’t you fucking tell me you don’t know how to open that.”   
“Uhh, okay. I won’t,” Tommy says, awkward and stilted. He lets go of the soda, just lets it drop, and Gordon yelps and snatches it before it manages to smash and burst on the carpet. Dr. Coomer jovially compliments him on his catch, and Benry says something snide about catching and not pitching. He sets it carefully on the table and stares at that can like it’s personally responsible for all of his problems.

“ _ Oh my god I’m going to throw up _ . You guys don’t know a fucking thing about being a person, do you?”   
“What clued you in, the whole ‘being AI’ thing or the fact that Dr. Coomer punches to say hi?” Bubby asks sarcastically, arms crossed. Gordon shoots him a glare that he doesn’t have much heat behind.

“I don’t  _ blame you _ , it’s- it’s just sinking in, right now. I can’t go to work tomorrow, my hand would bring up too many questions. I can’t- I can’t afford to have all of you guys here, let alone have to  _ teach you how to be a human fucking  _ **_being!_ ** **”**

“Calm down Mr. Freeman! It’ll all work out!” Tommy cheerfully replies. When Gordon looks at him in disbelief, his smile falters but doesn’t fall. “Once Sunkist comes back with snacks, we can figure out how we’ll get money! I’m sure it can’t be too hard, we’ve all got PhD’s!”   
“ _ What is Sunkist doing-  _ nevermind. It’s- it’s not that simple, Tommy.” Gordon runs his hand through his messy, curly hair, and feels eyes on him at the motion. “You can’t prove- you can’t prove that you  _ have _ those PhDs, because you aren’t  _ citizens. _ You can’t easily go out and get a job without citizenship, because most places ask you about that shit, man.”

“We’re all very intelligent, learned men,” Dr. Coomer butts in, tilting his head like a puppy. “Surely that alone should get us a job, somewhere?”   
Gordon laughs bitterly. “If it could I wouldn’t be working at a shitty, dead-end job stacking shelves, would I?” Benry opens his mouth. “Don’t answer that.” Benry closes his mouth.

“I know you guys probably had some coded-in backstory where you got your jobs in mysterious manners, but it doesn’t work that way here.” He pauses. “Well, unless that job is drugs, which I am not letting you get because I am not getting arrested for harboring a drug dealer.”   
“Damn,” Bubby mutters. 

Gordon buries his face into his hands. “So… in summary, we’re boned. End of story.” His voice is muffled by his palms, and he knows he looks pathetic, all mopey, but what the fuck else is he going to do?   
“Ey yo, feetman,” Benry calls. Gordon raises his head, way too tired to deal with any of this, but Benry doesn’t look absolutely obnoxious, so maybe he isn’t going to be a dick?

“You mentioned justin.tv. Why don’t you just… stream.”

“It’s twitch now, and that was… kinda.. a.... Joke…”

Hang on a fucking second.

“Benry, I hate to say it, but that’s the best idea I think I’ve heard all day.” He sits up straight, alert now, and doesn’t notice the way Benry awkwardly puts a hand behind his neck. “I don’t need to even  _ mention _ my hand, nobody there would question you guys… I mean, it’s gonna be a challenge, learning how to play shit with one hand…” He mutters aloud, hand held lightly over his mouth.

“Benry, you ass, this is _nerd_ _shit_ ,” Bubby complains. He doesn’t actually sound all that angry about it. Benry snorts.

“Too late, dude, he’s sold on it.” He sounds oddly proud of that, and more than a little smug. Tommy is bouncing on the bed, spitballing ideas with Gordon about what they could focus on and  _ can Sunkist join too _ , to which Gordon replies with a distracted  _ sure, man. _ It was grossly adorable. Dr. Coomer put his hands together and mocked a swoon.

“Ah, all of the world at our fingertips…! What a concept!”

Bubby looks between them all before sighing. “Fine, whatever. It beats going to jail.”

“I’d like to go to jail!” Dr. Coomer says gleefully.

Maybe, Gordon thinks later, once Sunkist comes back- and indeed, she was delicately carrying a grocery bag inexplicitly packed with the cheapest snacks,  _ how the fuck _ \- that maybe this won’t go horribly. He grabs as many blankets as he has, but they still end up having to share, curled up into a pile of limbs on his floor. He has the bed, even though he offered it to Tommy a few times, because the man is  _ tall _ and his feet stick out from under the blanket. Their clothes are fine enough to sleep in, for now, once Benry’s dropped the armor and they’ve lost their labcoats, but it’s not optimal, and definitely not comfortable. He’ll give them some of his - he doesn’t have much, but his shitty meme t-shirts and roomy shorts will at least be comfortable while he searches thrift stores for some cheap, hopefully size-accurate clothes. 

He sighs and heads to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror for a few long seconds before brushing his teeth. It’s warm outside, the hints of spring finally becoming  _ actual _ spring, but for some reason, after brushing his teeth and trying not to focus on how difficult it was to do with his left hand, the window has frosted over. He watches it for a moment, bewildered, before shaking his head. Whatever. Probably some weird effect from one of the others, he rationalizes.

He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for those at the HLVRAI hellhole discord for helping me come up with and flesh this idea out!! Y'all rock!!


End file.
